A tree hugger’s ode
I’m not sure when, but somewhere along the line I started realizing that trees were talking to me. I believe in the magic of trees. They’re graceful, patient, resilient, and wise. No matter where I go, they never fail to humble me…
Here I am in the forests in northern Washington, where I think I first learned that cigarette butts were actually garbage. (Still working on bring *that* karma bank account back to zero!)
Trondheim’s trees were so wild they wanted to give me a hug. And they were in a cemetery.
Oh Minneapolis. The tree canopies over busy Lyndale Avenue in the fall will never fail to make me smile.
It’s all green and mossy–how fitting for a tree in Ireland! It’s as if it’s wearing a tree fleece.
This one told me a few secrets. I’m headed back to Big Sur for a second installment one of these days.
To all the trees in the world: You know I love you, but I just wanted to give you a little shout out. You make every day! (And you make tons of oxygen…gracias!)